The Impossible Girl
by lazyroughdrafts
Summary: A cocky young woman mysteriously appears in the Warehouse. Everything about her is just impossible. A Bering/Wells Family Fic inspired by what a lot of y'all have been writing. Non-canon. AU. Second attempt at fanfiction, first of something longer. Hope it's ok. T for language mostly and serious themes. Don't own anything.
1. Chapter 1: Fred?

"Hello Fred, don't look so surprised," the girl quipped sarcastically, "You must have known this day would come."

She winked for good measure, "Ta-da." Gesturing with her hands in a mock-flourish.

Mrs. Frederic didn't move a muscle.

"Aren't you going to give me a hug?"

Anyone besides the formidable lady in question would not have detected the very slightest hint of shyness in the teenager's otherwise cocky Irish voice.

Claudia's mouth gaping wide, barely knew what to think at this turn of events. Firstly, when had Mrs. Frederic EVER looked surprised? Secondly, hello, the petite hacker was calling her Fred? Fred?! And to cap it all off had the nerve to ask for a hug. Wait, scratch that. Had the nerve to pull the Warehouse Caretaker into a hug. A real 5-seconds-and-counting hug!

Irene wrapped her arms around the young interloper squeezing her tightly and pulled the teal slouch beanie away to kiss her forehead tenderly before pulling back and saying with what could only described as wonder, "You did it."

"Did I?" the girl's voice betraying her momentarily as her green eyes glistened. "Did I really really?"

The older woman responded by pulling her into herself again, almost inaudibly she kissed the words _you impossible girl_ into her crown and this time clearly affirmed, ''Yes child, really. Welcome home Charlie."

Chin still floored, Claudia watched unable to comprehend what was transpiring in front of her. In all the years that Claudia had been with the Warehouse she was yet to be sure whether or not Mrs. Frederic was capable of actual human emotions. That question had finally been answered. And she still couldn't believe her own eyes. Irene Frederic, Warehouse Caretaker, detached, cryptic, frightening, Mrs. Frederic was actual-for-real hugging another human being and looking at said human with a look, with a look that was freakishly a lot like love. "Fraaack."

Less than 72 hours ago, Claudia had discovered a security breach, a program that had been running undetected for the last 5 years. Coding so elegant that it took the young trainee agent's breath away. Less than 72 hours ago, the intruder had appeared in the Umbilicus as if out of thin air startling the living bejeezus out of a clueless Claudia when she announced her presence with a smug, "Hello Red. What took you so long?"

The red-head didn't know what to make of this bizarre turn of events. Ever since the young hacker had waltzed into the Warehouse uninvited and undetected, it seemed the world itself had somehow been upended. And that was saying something considering the unpredictable dangers a world of artifacts already held.

Claudia having practically jumped out of her seat in shock, had merely managed a Who-What-How, "What the-?" "Who are you?"  
"How the frack did you get in here?"  
"Are you the one-" She didn't finish the sentence.

"Am I the hacker?" Finishing the other's thought answered, "Yes."

The mysterious trespasser had smiled enigmatically, leisurely looking over an increasingly impatient, not to mention irritated, Claudia. Appearing to weigh her response, she finally offered up, "The Warehouse likes me."

"The Warehouse likes you?"

She smirked at the young woman's annoyance and repeated, "Yes Red, the Warehouse likes me."

She paused before adding, "A lot." Another infuriating smile was playing across her lips, but not given free reign.

"That's it? You are in SO much trouble missy. So much. You have no idea."

"Perhaps. Perhaps not. That remains to be seen. Don't worry I'm not going anywhere just yet."

"What the- Who ARE you?"

"A great many things." This time there was a hint of seriousness in her still teasing response.

"But you can call me Lo. For now." She added.


	2. Chapter 2: Christina?

London Tuesday May 3rd, 1912

"You were following me this morning. And now you're in my room." She paused staring at the girl sitting at her desk who had clearly been making use of her stationary. "How curious."

The woman was not afraid. And as intrigued as she was, had not yet really asked any questions. For the moment she was content to gather as much information as she could from observing the still quiet stranger. The intruder was unusually attired. A no longer crisp white shirt was tucked into charcoal fitted trousers in turn tucked into black military boots. Her shirt was rolled up to the elbows exposing an elaborate 3/4 sleeve tattoo on her left arm. Shiny dark hair swept up in a messy bun. A rogue layer sweeping across her eyes obscured them.

Still no questions. They were openly staring at each other. Leisurely. Quietly and yet somehow without the awkwardness one might imagine in a situation such as this. The woman spoke goodnaturedly, "Well seeing as you've gone through all this trouble to see me, come stand up. Let me get a good look at you. You curious curious thing." She did as she was told and stood across from the young woman, leaving a distance of two feet between them. She tucked her hair behind her ears so that the latter could take a good look at her face.

It was apparent now that girl's eyes were a most unusual shade, a vivid-gemstone green unlike any she'd seen before. But the eyes. The shape of the eyes. The shape of her face. Those cheekbones. The dark, silkiness of her hair. The paleness of her skin. Were all too familiar. Except for the charming button nose and the shape of her mouth. All too familiar. A ghost of a memory embodied before her. She played with the locket around her neck as she involuntarily fell back a step.

She finally asked, "Who are you?"

No reply came. She looked like a girl now, no more than 18, she looked small and unsure of herself. There was a pleading in those too green eyes. There was compassion. And hope. Wordlessly, she reached out and positioned the two of them in front of the cherry wood vanity mirror. Side by side the resemblance was uncanny. The girl turned slightly pulling at the chain around her neck to reveal her own locket previously hidden beneath her shirt. Opening it so that the small black and white photo of a smiling eight-old-girl was displayed. The young woman mirrored her action and there appeared the most beautiful face betraying the faintest hint at an amused smile playing at her lips.

Unexpectedly, the girl reached out to cup the locket preciously in her palm, running her thumb over the picture as if she could somehow touch that face.  
They were both in tears.

"How?" She gasped this time, "That's my picture, that's my mother's locket."

The young trespasser finally spoke touching the locket that was now closed against her chest, "Christina?"

Christina nodded, shaking her head in confusion and drying her face with her palms.

She spoke again, "Christina, please tell me what you're thinking. Who do you think I am?"

"It's impossible but, you have a look about you. I would know you anywhere. You look like my-my mother. So very like her. If I'd had a sister, I imagine she would look very much like you." Christina was smiling softly through fresh tears and reaching to softly draw the girl closer to her.  
"You look like my sister," she shrugged shyly.

"I am." Came the reply. "I'm Charlotte."


	3. Chapter 3: Will you stay?

She had almost stayed there. Almost.

It was too easy not to leave. Why shouldn't she want to stay? For the last 7 years, she had been wandering from one world to another desperately trying to find her family and in trying to find them found that they needed saving. Every version.

There was a pull there, an ache. She was drawn into worlds, shades of each other, where she didn't exist. Never born, never lived, never died. And yet in every world she had visited, this never girl had been needed to save them. By dipping into the stream, fighting the current in order to show up in time. It was always something. World after world there was always some disaster or miscommunication or disease threatening her family. There was always something.

She had been inventor, savior, friend. But never daughter. Never sister, never this. She had gone back again and again and again in order to move forward in the hopes of finding her own family. Hers.

It always came down to hers. That singular mystery. And she was tired. Too young to be this tired. Too old to have lived so alone for so long. Too young to have lived so alone.

Why shouldn't she want to stay?

For the first time in her life she felt what it was to have a family of her own, to belong to someone, to feel loved and wanted and cherished. She had a sister. She was someone's little sister. Someone who had known their mother. She was connected to something real and tangible and solid. It made her feel real. Present in a way that she had never felt before. This was real. What if there was nothing for her to find, no home to return to? Miraculous things had already happened. Her sister was alive and she was perfect and she believed her, wanted her, loved her. What if there were no more miracles?

Yes, it was too easy not to leave. And yet all the wandering, all her travels between the worlds only led her to one conclusion. She had to find her family. And before it was too late.

London Wednesday May 4th, 1912

"...but this is astonishing! You clever girl. Now I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that you are truly my mother's daughter." Christina was looking at her through eyes she'd never seen before, a peculiar variety of pride born out of love.

Christina had been Helena's One. Though but a child, their mother had made her privy to her work as a Warehouse agent, had told her about the time machine and her other inventions. Because of this, she was fully capable of imagining impossible things. And knowing this, the compliment was fully felt.

Charlie squeezed Christina's arm tightly and smiled. Yes, she was very much HG Wells' daughter. More than her sister could ever know. She had seen enough to know what that entailed. It was the strength in her and also her darkness. Yes, she was their mother's daughter, but she also belonged to someone else. Somebody that was able to amplify both Helena's strength and curb her darkness. The young traveler often thought that same blood must be working in her too. She had her suspicions but she couldn't know for sure, not until she found them. Mrs. Frederic had told her one part of the truth of her origins but confessed to be unsure of the identity of the girl's father. Charlie had long believed it was because she didn't have one. And she was desperately hoping that she was right.

Christina looked at the girl who appeared lost in thought. Gently tapping her sister's nose she brought her back to herself, eliciting a sheepish smile. "You were far far away my love." She continued quietly, "You've been so for a very long time. I would have you here with me." "Please don't drift away where I cannot find you." Christina at 26 years of age had already lost too much. She couldn't lose her sister too."

Charlie couldn't bear the fear in her sister's eyes. Couldn't bear the look that had settled on her face. She'd never felt so torn or anguished. This intrepid adventurer who had lived far beyond the number of her years was suddenly just a small child crying into her sister's shoulder.

"What my dearheart, what is it?"

"I can't stay here. I want to stay here with you."  
"But I can't stay here." Her voice was so small.

Christina's eyes were swimming in tears at this admission. She knew this was true. And yet she had hoped otherwise.

The young woman was not prepared for the explanation that came. Nor however, could she have been prepared for the feelings it elicited: shock, hurt, loss, comfort and love.

"She saved you." Charlie breathed the words as if announcing a miracle. Looking up at the tear-stained face as if seeing it for the first time again.

"I don't think that even I can ever understand or really even imagine what it took. How many times she must have tried. Or in how many worlds she tried. And the toll it took on her spirit to survive, thinking that she failed."

"She saved you and she doesn't even know it. And that not knowing keeps her broken. Always. And time never heals her of that pain. Not ever."

"I can't stay. She has to know you lived. That pain inside her threatens everything."

"I've seen her Chris. Not her exactly but versions of her. And I never see her happy." She almost whispered the last part. "Even when she loves. Even when she is so completely loved."

"Shh-shh. There, there my love. Don't cry." She wrapped her up in her arms holding her fiercely. Telling her not to cry through her own tears.

"You cannot stay here. I see that now."  
"You must go to her. You must find her."  
"Only promise me that if it's safe, you'll come find me again when you do."

Charlie pulled away to face her sister and wiped her eyes. No longer a child. The child was gone now. There was the look of a determined woman on her face. Nodding emphatically she promised, "I will. And I will come back to you."

When they had both calmed down, when a peace had settled into their hearts. Christina asked almost shyly, "Tell me more about Mum. These versions of her, who is it that she doesn't allow herself to love?"

Charlie should have expected the question. Was even glad it was finally voiced. But it still knocked the wind out of her for a moment. She had to take a deep breath before replying.

"Myka. Her name is Myka."


	4. Chapter 4: Leprechutie, really?

Warehouse 13 Mystic District, Pennington County South Dakota 3:25AM

If she had known this one would turn out to be yet another parallel universe her mouth would not have been so low in the gutter. She was hoping, even praying, that this was not her reality but both the mathematical and the mystical elements of the leap had drawn her to yet another completely unacceptable world.

"Fucking fuck. Seriously just fuck me harder." She raved to no one in particular. It had practically erupted from her. This time she had slipped straight into the middle of a waking nightmare. She muttered under her breath, "I hate my life. I fucking hate my life." Her body in revolt at what her eyes had seen would not allow the mercy of a normal flight response. She stood outside the offending door for what felt like forever.

Leena was the first to wake up as she was the lightest sleeper. Pete was the first to rush headlong out of his room to confront the source of the foul-mouthed disturbance.

Claudia and Steve had almost simultaneously followed suite and turned on the lights.

"You guys. You guys I think there's a leprechaun in the B&B having wild nasty sex." Pete grimaced as he shouted out for the others. Sleep still obscuring his vision he had to blink several times to focus his eyes. The source of the profanities was standing outside HG's room, her door now ajar.

Leena looked particularly disturbed.

"False alarm guys! Not a leprechaun." He clarified as sleep no longer clouded his vision and he got a good look at their uninvited guest.  
"More of a Leprechutie." Was his assement.

They were all too stunned to react properly.

The trespasser was petite, no more than 5'3", with a single black braid snaking down her back offsetting her alabaster skin. Her white shirt was missing the first three buttons teasing to reveal a hint of cleavage. And when she turned to face them Pete yelped out, "No, definitely Leprechottie." Rolling her large green eyes she turned and said in an exasperated voice, "Really, Pete?"

Claudia piped up, "Yeah really Pete." Before breaking up in a "Heyyy, how do you-?" And then everyone was chiming in. It really was cartoonish. The look of disgust on Charlie's face was replaced with the beginnings of a smirk.

"Who are you? How did you get in here? How do you know Pete? Why are we all standing around outside HG's bedroom? Where is HG?"

Pete didn't miss a beat trying to turn on the charm, "Have we met? Cause I'd think I'd remember meeting an angel."

Steve just shook his head, "Seriously Pete? Now? Forget it. There's not even an appropriate time for that much lame."

Claudia couldn't help laugh before trying to set her features into a let's-get-down-to-business-shouldn't-we-be-figuring-out-who-this-intruder-is face.

"What you guys it's like nowhere near the buttcrack of dawn and there's this vision just standing in the hallway swearing like a sailor. How am I supposed to react? What is even going on? And how is HG sleeping through all this?" Pete's rambling defence of himself was interrupted at that point.

"I wasn't exactly sleeping darling," Helena drawled with a hint of annoyance. Everyone at this point were struggling to know where to look. HG had clearly thrown something on rather quickly. Her badly buttoned shirt was barely reaching below her hips, and she was clearly sans brassiere. Pete let out a low whistle while his eyes grew saucers. Claudia smacked the back of his head.

But as the English woman's eyes landed on the cause of the commotion, not to mention the cause of her currently frustrated overly-dressed state, they softened momentarily. Then came confusion, swiftly followed by intrigue. And then a flash of pain before they narrowed.

The young woman was looking at her accusingly and something about the way her pretty mouth steeled itself shut was all too achingly familiar.

While rushing her fingers through her hair to avoid the accompanying thoughts a tall brunette woman wearing Helena's skimpy silk chinoiserie robes sauntered up behind her. Placing her chin on the writer's shoulder and arms possessively around the slim waist, HG's shirt hitched dangerously higher. "Why aren't we back in bed?" She kissed the words into her lover's neck. Helena gently disengaged herself, removing the woman's hands from around her waist.

Leena was very disturbed. And not for the reason now reddening the faces of all her family. Leena was seeing something she'd never laid eyes on before. Someone with no aura. Their young break-in artist glimmered. It was as if light itself was passing through her and emanating from her. Maybe angel wasn't the worst descriptor Pete could have come up with.

The Victorian stood tall to address the clearly angry young beauty in front of her, "Well darling, you could have saved all of us a great deal of embarrasment had you merely knocked first. It's always advisable when trying to gain entrance to rooms which aren't ours after a certain hour. Do you not agree?"

"I am a lot of things right now. Embarrased isn't one of them." Came the defiant retort.

"Are you feeling what I'm feeling? Like a woohoo this is so hot feel?" Pete wanted her to clarify.

The girl looking physically ill shouted, "Oh barf, Pete!" She shuddered as a fresh wave of disgust took over her features. "I think I'm going to be sick." He got close as if to steady her and she promptly punched his arm for his efforts.

Claudia and Steve were now closer to their original skin tone. Watching the scene avidly. They both looked at each other. The redhead stage whispered, "Did you just SEE that?" Steve nodded solemnly as if realizing something for the first time.

Helena's eyes widened at her reaction. The other woman tried to capture her girlfriend's attention tugging her shirt from behind, again hitching that damn shirt perilously close to unavoidable exposure and when she got not response from the now frozen woman, pouted, "Let's go back to bed baby."

It was fast becoming an evening of things they weren't expecting. And still the young stunner with the Irish lilt succeeded in blurting out the unexpected,  
"Uggh. Shut up Giselle!" And then more to herself, "God I fucking hate that name."

NOTE: My sincere apologies to anyone named Giselle. All characters are fictitious with no basis in reality and any opinions voiced by them are not the author's.


	5. Chapter 5: Indigo?

**Note:** _Thank you for the reviews you guys. And thank you **wednesdaysfire **for commenting, really love your stuff. I can't wait to find out what happens in Snatch. This fic is basically my version of a thank you to all the really great Bering/Wells fanfic writers out there. Should probably explain that somewhere. Maybe in my profile or someplace. New at this you guys. So, not so great at it yet! _

Indigo, that infernal color, so pleasant, so mellow. So infernally infernal. She was lost in a haze of profanity, better that then actually putting word to thought. It would not compute. Charlie's numbers were spinning and her head was on fire with the images she could not unsee. And once seen, were never to be forgotten. It began with "fuck indigo" to "bloody fucking indigo" and every combination of sewer rat vocabulary she could dredge. Eventually it became expletive in its own standing. After the indigo stream that pulled her into a world where "that woman" had invaded the one safe space in every universe. "That woman." "Indigo."  
"Indigo."  
"Indigo, indigo, indigo." 

How? The numbers were drawing her closer. The tide had pulled her in. She was sure that she was close, closer than she had ever been to finding home. Reaching Christina had proved that. She had been able to fight the crushing current, she had pushed against it until she'd reached far enough to be drawn into her sphere. Christina was gold. They were too. They must be. She had thought she'd just have to let the current take her far enough into her own time to find them. But indigo. She'd slipped out of the stream and crossed the barrier into bloody fucking indigo.

The last thing she remembered was Giselle in a pink? satin chinoiserie robe pawing at her mother, no, not her mother, indigo, another her, pawing at HG, simpering, "Come back to bed." Charlie's head was pounding, pulsating a redness of closing eyelids. It was pounding so hard its contents threatened to burst forth in a B-movie horror flick type gruesome mess. The pain was leaving her dizzier and dizzier and more and more breathless until gold and turquoise and infernal indigo faded to black. The sticky smothering blackness of tar became the blackness of wool became the beautiful beautiful blackness of the cosmos and the face that she'd been moving towards all her life emerged from it, almost within reach, "Mom?"

"Momma...it's me Charlie..." She did not know what she was saying. It seemed she was speaking all at once in a mad rush to reach the woman's awareness.  
At once calling out to her, at once trying to explain that she'd been looking for her for a long time, at once explaining that Christina had been saved, at once pleading..."remember me, please remember me."

Before she could reach her, daggers of light sliced up the blackness, dismantling it piece by piece. Then it was cold. Cold and wet. The woman's face blurred into lights that were searing into her eyes. Reflexively she shut them tight, scrunched her lids real tight but the fear was greater than the need to shut out the pain. The fear of losing her entirely, that the woman would be lost to her afresh because she'd closed her eyes, that fear was far greater than the pain of enduring the searing whiteness.

A face emerged, a blur of concern and cold hands and ice pressed to her head and cheeks and neck and strong arms. Her eyes slowly, painfully adjusted to the light. Hands on her cheeks, voices, commands, "We need to get her into the tub now."

A woman's panicked voice calling for more eyes? A man's voice panicked voice calling for more eyes...Ice...Ice. The cold and the burning and the still blurry face.

Throat dry her lips were moving but no sound was drawn forth. The woman's face moved closer to her. "Wake up darling. That's it open your eyes dear. What is it darling?"

"Mom-"

Her voice was unrecognizable to herself. She struggled to open her eyes fully. She focused on the woman's face, on her eyes. Mind and vision had failed her. She finally recognized the voice, the eyes. Recognized them and knew that the light had pulled her further away but perhaps had also brought her closer. "Mum?"

Her hands were being held tightly. She was being comforted and shushed and dark eyes the color of the beautiful blackness were looking back into hers, now focussed and open and seeing.

"You are a bloody frightening young lady. And your mother must be a fearsome woman indeed." The teasing voice of the English woman sounded relieved. Her face was serene but her eyes were all relief until her eyes widened momentarily in bewilderment.

"Indigo."


	6. Chapter 7: The impossibly long night

Leena's B&B Univille, South Dakota

"Momma...Mom..." The girl had cried out..."Remember me." Myka woke up in a panic, the same panic that had gripped her two years ago when she had woken up from what she now referred to privately as 'the impossibly long night.'

July 24, 2012

That date was marked indelibly in her mind. It was the morning her daughter was born. It was the morning her daughter had disappeared. Their daughter. It hadn't been a dream, of that much she was sure. The different realities lay heavy in her heart since then.

July 23, 2012

They had stopped Sykes from destroying the Warehouse. After sure disaster had somehow been narrowly averted and the others were momentarily distracted by jittery artifacts, Helena had pulled her into a kiss between the stacks without warning.

Later that night Helena had sneaked into her bedroom after everyone was fast asleep in the B&B. Myka had been wide awake, her bedside lamp still on although she had ceased trying to read after attempting the same paragraph from the beginning of James Joyce's epic Ulysses 32 times.

"Stephen, an elbow rested on the jagged granite, leaned his palm against his brow and gazed at the fraying edge of his shiny black coat-sleeve. Pain, that was not yet the pain of love, fretted his heart. Silently, in a dream she had come to him after her death, her wasted body within its loose brown graveclothes giving off an odour of wax and rosewood..."

Myka had been sitting up in bed, head resting against the wall with her knees drawn up. She had been staring at the same spot on the ceiling. Trying to focus all her attention on that one tiny crack so that her mind wouldn't wander any further than it. So her mind wouldn't wander further to her door, to the hallway, to the bedroom across from hers.

Helena, in the meantime, had lost the battle with herself and having done so thoroughly surrendered to the one thought on her mind. When she entered Myka's room, she looked wild-eyed and lost for the briefest moment before their eyes locked. Myka had stared at her in disbelief. Had she willed this to happen? Had she concentrated on that tiny spot of chipped paint for so long, focussed on not thinking about the woman before her, that she had somehow drawn her here?  
Helena was wearing a navy blue paisely robe, its belt tied loosely around her waist. When she moved towards the bed it was clear that she had nothing on besides a pale blue camisole and bikini briefs.

They said nothing. Neither of them broke eye contact. Myka pulled her bedspread aside and made room for the English woman to sit beside her. Helena slipped her robe off before she accepted the invitation.


	7. Chapter 9: Who are you?

Warehouse 13 Mystic District, Pennington County South Dakota

"You are a bloody frightening young lady. And your mother must be a fearsome woman indeed."

"Indigo."

Charlie's eyes caught the Inventor's in a brief lucid moment registering both the relief and subsequent bewilderment, at the odd expletive, that had passed through those dark eyes. Though her head was pounding relentlessly and her body burning up, the young woman responded with an oddly affectionate smirk, "Funny you should say that." She winced as searing pain nailed her eyes shut and she seemed to be on the verge of losing consciousness completely. She felt herself drifting in and out of a thick fog. The soft Irish lilt of her own voice almost unrecognizable to her. Where were her words coming from? She was a disembodied voice, floating. She and the fog were one and the same. No, she was...She was...a small faint sound. A lost girl. Lost between the universes. Crying out to all of them simultaneously.

HG had quickly rattled off a series of tasks. Claudia had found a safe enough ice-making artifact, Roald Amundsen's ice pick to create more. Since they'd quickly exhausted their supply after emptying all the icetrays into ziplock bags and placing them around the girl's head, neck, under her armpits and knees. Pete had carried her to the tub where HG had drawn up a freezing bath for her. Placing her with the utmost care, he almost whispered, "She's so light. She shouldn't be so light." Steve and Claudia were attempting to figure out the artifact that was responsible while Leena tried to get a hold of Dr. Calder. Everyone had forgotten about Giselle for the time being.

The Warehouse's resident Time Traveler/Writer/All-Around Genius was crouched at the side of the tub. She tucked loose strands of the girl's wet hair away from her face and behind her ears. Gently cupping that almost angelic burning face. Angel. Burning. If she hadn't heard the expletives so effortlessly spill from that pretty mouth she would have quite easily believed that this was one of them.

Eyes shut. Eyes open. "Mum...Mum?"

This time HG's heart lurched at the word. Observing her so closely she couldn't deny she recognized this face. Somehow this face was so familiar to her. A familiarity that made her ache inside. The word jarred. The word clawed at her from the inside.

Eyes shut. Eyes open. "Mum..I lost Myka. Almost reached her. I think. I think. I think she heard me this time. I think. I think she saw me too. It was dark. It was so very dark. Ma... Ma...Why didn't you look for me? Why did you only care about Christina? Why is it so warm in here? Why am I cold?

Eyes shut. Eyes open. "W-Wait. Where's Christina gone again? She was right here. She was with me. She's safe Mum. You saved her. Chris is safe. And she's brilliant. She's bloody brilliant." The girl was slurring her words. Speaking in pauses. Her brilliant green eyes murky with confusion and pain, her body felt like it was breaking up into a billion billion pieces, her atoms all vibrating at different frequencies. It felt like being ripped apart, like she was everywhere at once. Her eyes were open but unseeing. "Bollocks." A knife-like sensation sliced through both her eyes and clear through her sternum, her body arching in response.

Helena knew how to mask her emotions. Helena was well practiced in the art. But this slip of a girl had her mind in knots, her heart wrenching and her face naked with stunned pain. And also fear. Who was this young thing who had burst in on them at the awkward hours of the morning. Who was she to look so alike the two people she loved most in the world. Who was she to so casually name them. Names that only passed her lips now as sacred prayer.

An unnamed tightness was forming at the back of her throat. She gripped the girl's face as if to rouse her, to make her look squarely in the eyes with clarity. "Who are you?" She was practically screaming into her face, hands tightly grabbing hold of both cheeks. She was pulling her out of the icewater with the force of it. Her soaked clothes not enough to weigh the girl down. She was so light. So disconcertingly light.

Pete put his hands on her shoulder. "HG, you're going to hurt her." He stepped back allowing the scene to unfold and yet watching with silent concern. Ready to step in if necessary. He suppressed the urge to grab the stranger himself. Ask her how she could have seen Myka. How she knew any of them. It took all his will power to fallback and wait for answers that HG deserved more than him.  
Charlie had been slipping through doors since she was born. How that came to be was still a mystery even to her. The more universes she crossed the more fractured the picture became. The more she traveled to the past the more she came to believe that she had to find the present in order to make things right.

But what she had seen in every universe where her mother existed in the present stream led her to the same conclusions. She had to find a universe where Christina survived past the age of 8 years 4 months and 3 days...and she had to make it home in time for Myka to live.

The problem was Christina always died.

The problem. Until it wasn't the problem.

The problem was that Charlotte was trapped in a fog trying to piece together a puzzle whose pieces were scattered over multiple universes and disparate timelines. The problem was that she had been deliberately kept in the dark in order for those with knowledge of her origins to further their dark purposes.

The fog was lifting. She felt her face tighten. She was gasping for air and broke free of the older woman's hold on her face. She gripped the sides of the tub to pull herself up into sitting. Her green eyes now fully open, turned to face HG who again, but gently reached for the girl's face, lightly caressing her left cheek with her thumb. The Victorian's face was wet with tears as she pleaded, "Who are you?"

"I'm...I..." She sighed. Startling green eyes focussed on darkest brown. She was tired of this question. She was so tired of this. More than anyone who asked it, she would like to know its true and full answer. She clambered out of the tub with Helena's help. Still holding onto her she slowly lowered the both of them so they were sat on the bathroom tiles. Charlie was weak but no longer burning up. Her temperature was returning to normal.

HG was still holding the girls calloused hands in hers. "Who are you?" She asked again. The need in those three words much louder than she had voiced them.

Who was she indeed. The girl started with the one thing she knew for a fact. "I'm Christina Wells' younger sister. I'm Charlie...Special Agent Charlotte Seraphina Wells, Warehouse Division. Helena George Wells is my mother. I've been crossing universes to find her."

"Who are you?" This time it was Charlie asking the question.

"I don't know anymore." Helena almost whispered. Pete was going to faint.


End file.
